Back For Good
by St.-Jimmy-is-dead
Summary: It was going to be his third Christmas eve without John. The now twenty seven year old's patience was starting to fade away. It had been three years already, all he wanted was to have his boyfriend back in his arms. John was thirty one now. Have things really changed that much? (With slight Mystrade)
1. New beginning

Sherlock Holmes couldn't take it anymore. It had been three years since his boyfriend John Watson went off to war in Afghanistan. His mind was going crazy, even more than it usually did. What if John was dead? What if he wasn't coming back? They would have told him, right? Or did they tell Mycroft first to see if they should come to Sherlock with the news or not? Yes, that made perfect sense. Otherwise John would have been back by now. John loved him. He promised he'd come back, but they both knew there was no way of knowing that for sure. Right now, he was sat in the interrogation room with Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan, his mind somewhere else.

It was Christmas Eve. His third Christmas Eve without John. Of course, after three years he'd found a new friend. Not new exactly, but he they rekindled their friendship. Him and Victor Trevor. He moved into John's old room, since it hadn't been used in awhile and he hadn't known whether he'd ever come back. He was pretty convinced John was gone for good. Even Mycroft had told him that he wasn't sure whether John was ever going to come back because he had no idea whether he was still alive. So naturally, he tried to move on. And it didn't work, obviously. He had breakdowns every once in a while, but Victor was always there to support him - through missing John and through trying to move on.

Sherlock looked around at everyone, including Victor who was sitting right next to him, yelling at each other over such a simple case. He couldn't help with anything until they really decided to give up. In an act of rage, he stood up and started yelling. "It was the bloody postman! He went up to the letter slot and shot at the woman's head because she was sitting on the couch in the living room where he could get a clear shot at her!" he snapped, glaring at all of them. "Someone has been stressed lately…" he heard from behind him and his eyes widened as he slowly turned around.

He looked at the figure with teary eyes, shaking his head slightly. It couldn't have been possible, could it? He took a weary step towards John, breathing heavily. "You… so you're alive," he murmured, letting his eyes roam the man. His skin was a lot more tanned than before, that was obvious. His eyes seemed much sharper than they had three years ago, he was sure of that. His left arm was in a sling but he could move his forearm normally; probably a bullet wound. He looked down at the man's posture and cocked his head. He didn't have anything on any of his legs, yet he seemed to have some sort of limp… probably psychosomatic.

"Yes, yes I am. I wouldn't let anyone kill me out there when I knew I had the great Sherlock Holmes expecting me back in Baker Street. And stop deducing things about me, all right? It really is me," John said softly. He could feel the blonde's eyes gazing at his bowed head. "Hey, Sherlock, it's me, remember?" he chuckled, taking a step towards him.

"You could have written me back, you know," he replied quietly, looking up at John. "Maybe then I wouldn't have thought you were dead," he continued, glaring at the man. He watched as John seemed to have shrugged his shoulders forwards with guilt and tried to keep a straight face. His heart clenched slightly at the sight but he couldn't let John see that, could he? He blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes as he took a step closer to the blond, placing a soft hand on his good shoulder. "I… go home, take a shower and get some rest, I'll talk to you then, alright? Victor and I should go catch the man before he kills anyone else… your things are in my room, by the way," he breathed.

John's face fell but he nodded slightly. "Yeah, alright. I'll see you later then, right?" he asked softly, looking at the other people in the room. He'd been so caught up in seeing Sherlock again that he'd completely forgotten about Greg, Anderson and Sally. But Victor… now that was definitely a new name. A new name he'd have to match to the only new face around. His eyes rested on a man a little older than Sherlock; maybe by a few months, maybe even by a year. He had short, light brown hair that stood up straight on his head, light green eyes and a bunch of freckles jumbled across his cheeks and nose.

Sherlock watched as the blond limped towards Victor and held a hand out to him. "Nice to meet you, Victor. You better take care of my boyfriend out there or else I **will** kill you. And trust me, I'd have no problem with doing that," he heard John murmur. A small smirk crawled onto his face at the man's words. Of course he hadn't changed too much. But if that was true, then why did it hurt him so much when he thought of John? Or even now, when he was back? He walked over to the hanger and took his coat and scarf off, tugging them on and waiting for his friend to get up.

He drew in a small gasp as John's lips captured his own. That was definitely unexpected. He smiled sadly and cupped the slightly shorter man's cheek. "See you soon, yeah?" he breathed, and he felt the man nod in return. He pushed past him and opened the door, walking out swiftly and making his way to hail a cab as quickly as he could, the sound of Victor's feet as he rushed behind him echoing through the empty hallway.

* * *

A/N:

So... I tried.

Hopefully it was good.

Not too good but you know... good...?

I don't know. Anyways, hopefully you guys enjoyed it and I'll keep writing more chapters.

If you'd be able to review the chapter it would be great, thanks :)

~St. Jimmy~


	2. Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

_John spun around the house with a wide smile on his lips. Christmas at Sherlock's parents house was always fantastic. The smell of cookies and eggnog flooding through the hallways, the sound of music coming out of the living room and spreading through the entire house, the smile on Sherlock's face that made warmth spill through his entire body. He knew the next thing he was going to do would be risky, but he couldn't wait any longer. He walked out the back door and towards Sherlock, leading him into the house and out towards the terrace._

_"John, what are you doing?" he heard Sherlock ask in a slightly curious voice. He ignored the brunet, tugging him right out under the table._

_"Look up…" he breathed with a small grin. John watched as the young Holmes looked up and allowed his grin to widen as he looked back down at him with a smile._

_"A mistletoe. Quite a cliché, wouldn't you agree?" Sherlock had asked him softly. All the blond could do in reply was nod. "So… I suppose we should respect the holiday cheer and…" he cleared his throat, his pale face flushing._

_John laughed and placed a hand behind his neck, pulling him closer and closing the gap between the two, shutting him up. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but somehow quite intense. It was their first kiss, and John was sure he would never forget what it felt like. He pulled back to look up at the younger man's eyes. He was in pure shock, but he didn't seem horrified. That was a good sign, right? _

_He took a step back and rubbed the back of his head. "I… I don't suppose you'd want to be my b-boyfriend, would you?" John asked softly, averting his gaze from him. He felt himself being tugged in once more and his lips met Sherlock's again, this time for a deeper kiss._

_Sherlock was smiling down at him. "Of course I do, you bloody idiot," he laughed. He could feel his heart rate going of the charts. They leaned against the table and Sherlock took out a pack of cigarettes, giving one to John and taking one for himself. Once they lit the cigarettes up, John leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Happy Christmas," the brunet whispered._

_"Happy Christmas…"_

* * *

_The scene faded and suddenly he was lying down next to Sherlock in his old room. He was stroking the man's dark curls, his shirt soaked with tears. Never in his three years of knowing Sherlock had he seen the man cry. But of course, John had made him tear up._

_"Don't leave me, please," Sherlock had sobbed, burying his face into John's shirt. John tried to calm him down and tell him everything was going to be okay, but he wasn't too sure about it himself._

_"I'll be back, Sher. It's just going to be for a few years. I'll be back. I promise I'll be back," he whispered, kissing his forehead softly. The both of them got out of the bed and John hugged him tightly, kissing him once again. _

_He picked his bag up and waddled down the steps alongside Sherlock, letting out a shaky breath as they approached the buildings front door. He opened the door and turned around once he was out, looking at the young man through the doorframe. "Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes," he breathed, placing his bag down and hugging him tightly, kissing him deeply one last time and closing the door. The last thing he heard from the man he loved was a cry of desperation. There was no turning back now._

* * *

John woke with a start. He was in Sherlock's bed, a pool of sweat surrounding him. He was used to having war nightmares, but this was definitely new to him. He crawled out and made his way into the shower and carefully washed his body, trying to keep his wound out from under the stream. Once he finished, he wrapped the bandage around his shoulder again, walking out of the room with nothing but his briefs on him. He stopped when he saw Sherlock sitting on the couch in the living room. He finally let his eyes look over him without anyone bothering him. His hair was cut until right above his forehead, he had a scar on his cheekbone and he seemed a little lankier.

"What happened to your cheek?" he asked quietly, cocking his head.

Sherlock smiled at him softly. "Just… I went on a case, chased the guy down, he had a knife, it grazed my skin, and this appeared," he explained. "So… Hello," he said quietly, standing up to walk over to the blond. He placed a hand on John's shoulder and kissed him softly.

John kissed him back with a small chuckle. "Hello…" he took him by the hand and walked back to the couch with him. "Look… I don't know what I missed. I don't know what happened while I was gone, but I know I never wanted to miss out on so many things in your life. I'm back now, though, and I want you to feel like I'm the same person I was three years ago. Because I am," he said, kissing him once again. "I'm sorry," he breathed, leaning his forehead against Sherlock's.

"Don't worry, John… you don't have to be sorry," he said softly, pressing a kiss to his nose and running a hand through the older man's hair silently.

* * *

**A/N:**

So here's the second chapter! :)

Hope you guys like it.

Review if you can, I need motivation xDThanks!

~St. Jimmy~


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